If I should die, think only this of me: that there's some corner of a foreign field that is for ever England.
Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?
Infinite hungers leap no more I in the chance swaying of your dress; and love has changed to kindliness.
I have need to busy my heart with quietude.
Youth is stranger than fiction.
Hearts at peace, under an English heaven.